Pining for Eden

July 21, 2009 April

The thunder woke us up last night. I couldn't think of the last time I heard thunder in Arizona. And even now the world is slowly dripping outside my window.

Strange. (Bordering on spooky.)

Half asleep, I said a big "Wow," holding out the vowel too long and asking David if that really was thunder. He grunted in the affirmative and rolled over.

I said triumphantly, "See, the whole universe is mourning our fall from grace." But he was already asleep again. He doesn't believe in seeing signs in the weather.

I, however, tend to. Just for the melodrama if nothing else. Reading the mind of heaven by the inflections in the clouds. Almost as good as reading David's eyebrows. (Which I am brilliant at, by the way, no matter what he says.)

Last night in the dark, while the skies rolled above us and added their own consternation to mine, (I love it when the universe agrees with me), I thought about our magical days on the beach at Tofino.

And pined away the rest of the night.

I pined especially for July 10th. The best day of my entire year.

That morning we rode our bikes to the beach at low tide, when the fog was still thick and sand dollars littered the beach, a fortune free for the taking,

and the kids scrambled over the tide pools and filled their pockets with the discarded homes of sea creatures.

We rode the bikes all the way down McKenzie beach

and flew the kite,

and then nearly got lost in the fog on the way back home. We followed the shoreline until it ran out into the rainforest.

Home for lunch and hot-tubbing, and then we stuffed ourselves back into the wet suits and spent one last glorious afternoon on Cox Bay.

See what I mean?

Easily the best day of my year. In the top ten of my life even.

Go ahead and wistfully weep with me and the Arizona sky. The universe has given its approval.

I intend to pine until the sun comes out.

Holding Grudges While Holding It Together

April 23, 2009 April

When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

Shedding Our Parkas and Our Spices

February 25, 2009 April

Yesterday I ran the air conditioner earnestly for the first time this year. I was vacuuming and my thermostat said 83*. Which is just too hot to really enjoy your vacuuming.

This morning Savannah called from her room, "Mom, can we cut off my jeans tonight? I don't have any shorts." And then wondered aloud if we were at the end of winter or already in spring.

I told her to wear a skirt. I'm not quite ready to sacrifice her jeans. I bought them for our Christmas trip to Michigan. Two months ago.

Yesterday afternoon Ethan and I were outside enjoying the sunshine. I sat in the shade because I thought it was "hot." He declared the weather to be "only warm" and "just perfect" and planted himself purposefully in the sun. After a few minutes he said,

"Wow. You were right. It is hot." And scooted over to me in the shade.

We stared up into the leaves of the orange tree.

A minute or so later he asked, "Mom, are you right about everything?"

I said, "Your dad thinks so."

(Sometimes I think, "Am I really writing about this?" Take this last week, for instance. I've given up writing about my husband's colon in favor of talking about the weather. All of it Pulitzer material for sure.)

David is back at work. And no worse for wear. My work is suffering however, as I no longer know what to cook. The doctor said to take it easy for a while. Not too spicy. Nothing with fat. That leaves me with....rice. I'm supposed to feed the sister missionaries tonight. They like curry, which is probably considered "spicy." I had plans to make the Chicken Tikka Masala. Luckily for David, I am serving it with rice. Honestly, I have my doubts that rice will be enough to tempt him home. Perhaps I should whip up a nice salad with no dressing as extra incentive. It is quite a shock to discover that everything you cook has either spice or fat, and usually both. (This used to be one of the "pluses" for marrying me. That list is getting alarmingly small.)

A Post Featuring Snow

December 27, 2008 April

I've decided that "a dark and stormy night" has nothing on "an icy and foggy morning." I had to fill a prescription early this morning and about lost my way in all the murky blackness. I drove achingly slow and smiled to myself imaging the drivers behind me cursing their luck when they saw my license plate, "Sheesh, you'd think they'd never seen fog in Arizona." Well, actually I haven't.

For those of you wondering if we're still in Joplin, we made it Michigan right on schedule and have been Christmasing ever since.

My kids remembered the joys of snow, but not the cold. I think the last time we went sledding in Flagstaff we all shucked our coats half-way through the day and ended up sunburned. It's been a bit of an adjustment. The first day here there were a few tears about how "freezing" it was, but eventually they figured out the science of layers and the necessity (and brilliance) of gloves. Boots are also helpful. We had to go buy a couple pairs when we got here and had to go to four stores before we finally found some. I asked David, "What do you have to do to find boots in this town?" Apparently the locals have long since bought what they needed for winter and the stores are about to start stocking flip-flops in anticipation of summer.